The Price of Love

Chapter 18

Y'all are going to hate me for this chapter

John's PoV

I can't take it anymore. I can't watch my Alexander flirting with a girl. So I turn and run. I run blindly through the mansion, tears falling down my cheeks. I eventually run into a room and slam the door behind me. Then I cry. I collapse to the floor, my body shaking with sobs. I pull my knees to my chest and bury my face in my hands. He doesn't love you. He doesn't love you. My mind whispers. I sit there for what feels like hours, crying until I can't anymore. Then I stumble to my feet, leaning on a desk facing away from the door for support. I miss the soft creak of the door opening behind me, miss the soft footsteps striding across the room to me. So I yell in shock when I feel the strong arms grab my shoulder and spin me around. Alexander throws himself onto me and buries his face in my chest. I angrily shove him off. He looks up at me, his face creasing with confusion. "What do you want?" I ask harshly. He takes an uncertain step backward, his hands raising slightly in preparation for self defense.

"John, you're drunk." He says, his voice soft. "Please just listen to me-"

"So what?" I demand. "So you can explain why you abandoned me to dance with a girl? Care to explain that? I thought you loved me!" My voice rises in anger.

"John. Please, I do. You're drunk, if you would just listen to me-" He protests, his face crumbling slowly into anguish.

"Fuck off Hamilton!" I scream. His face twists in pain and tears collect in his eyes. "I hate you!" He starts crying. He crumples to the ground and sobs into his knees. In my drunken state, I feel no sympathy for the man I think I thought I loved. I just coldly watch him break down.

"I love you John." He whispers through his sobs.

"Like hell you do." I retort. "Run back to your girlfriend Hamilton. We're done." His sobs hit a hysterical pitch when I start marching across the room to the door. He grabs my jacket as I pass him.

"No! Don't leave me!" He screams, burying his face in my jacket. I shake him off with an air of disgust and leave him curled up on the floor of the room, bawling his eyes out. Fucking faker. I think angrily as I storm through the mansion and out into the streets of Albany. He fucking deserves it. Fucking whore. I march back to our campsite, snarling at the fact I still share a tent with him. I practically throw myself on the ground, fuming. It's many hours until I fall asleep, and Alexander doesn't come back. Probably busy fucking that girl. I think before falling asleep.

---

I wake up with a pounding headache. The tent is still deserted, and his bags lay untouched. Fucking whore. I think, sitting up. I dig through my bag and pull out a ration tin. I open it and remember the argument we had about him eating normal food, just yesterday. I was thinking about just how strange he still is to me, how new and different. I slowly eat the food. When I finish, I stare at the tin, remembering when he was telling me how he figured out they could be turned into knives. We were so happy. Then he had to fuck everything up. Did I mean nothing to him? My drunken, self-righteous anger spills over to my sober self. No, I didn't do anything wrong by lashing out unreasonably at him. He was wrong for dancing with a girl so our relationship would go undetected and we could stay together. I'm not in the right mind. Far, far from it.

Alex's PoV

I don't get any sleep. I don't even move from the spot he left. I stay there, sobbing, wondering what I did that made him feel this way and how I can fix it. But there's nothing I can do if he stays mad at me. By morning, I've regained composure of myself. This is your fault Hamilton. You've fucked everything up. If you weren't so stupid, this never would have happened. I take a deep breath, stopping tears from forming again. I stumble to my feet and pull my jacket tighter around me before walking out. I wander blindly around, not caring where I'm going, and mutter attack plans to distract myself. I bump into the walls multiple times and end up cutting my forehead open. I don't even notice until warm blood trickles into my eyes. "Okay Hamilton, time to go back to camp now." I sigh. "Merde. How do I get out?" I continue walking around, looking for an exit, but I'm lost. And overwhelmed. I don't do well in large buildings it seems. But I continue on anyway, my determination that's been honed by years of fighting pushing me on. And I wish I hadn't the moment I run into Eliza.

"Oh! Hello Alexander. What are you doing here?" She asks, batting her eyelashes.

"I fell asleep somewhere last night, and I was just looking for the exit and I seemed to have gotten lost." I explain, my voice slightly strained. "Would you be kind enough to show me the way out?" A faint air of disappointment settles around her, but she nods brightly. What, you think I wanna get in your pants or something? That ain't gonna happen.

"Would you care for breakfast with me?" She asks.

"No, thank you. I ate yesterday, and besides, I really must be getting back to my camp before the men worry about me. So if you would please escort me outside, I would be very grateful." I say curtly.

"Okay. Follow me." She says. She leads me through the mansion and tries to strike up a conversation with me. I ignore her, too many things happening inside my brain. "Here you go." She says after a little while.

"Thank you my dear." I say, the last part slipping out without my consent. I turn and swiftly walk away before she can do anything with the grave mistake I made. I run through the city and into the woods. I wipe away the blood still trickling down my face and start walking back to the campsite. The trip feels longer than I remember, but it's actually a bit shorter. "Hey! I'm back! Sorry it took me so long!" I call when I enter our campsite. I make my way back to my tent, I need to write. I stop when I see John in there. I take a deep breath and walk into the tent, sitting down. "I'm sorry." I say quietly. "Listen. You don't have to like me, you don't have to be happy with me, you don't have to look at me, talk to me, interact with me, or be near me. But I can't switch tents without it being suspicious." My voice cracks. He doesn't respond at all. I wipe the blood off my face again and pick up my paper, quill, and inkwell. I uncork the inkwell and dip my old, worn quill in and start writing. The comforting sound of the quill scratching across my paper calms me down.

"Will you stop?" He hisses at me after only a few minutes.

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask, pausing. "My writing? John, it's essential to the war that I write down all my thoughts and plans so I can review them later so we don't sacrifice any strategies that could help us win."

"Well it's annoying. And I'm not sure if I care anymore." He spins around to face me. "I was only in this for you." He snarls. "Then you had to fuck everything up." He steps closer to me and I back up. Anger hardens me and I grit my teeth.

"Then you can go right back home." I say coldly. "I will not allow persons whose loyalties could sway to stay in my army. Go home Hawkins." He scoffs.

"You wouldn't."

"Go. Home. That is an order from your General and your Prince." I snarl, getting in his face. "If I have to drag you, kicking and screaming, all the way back to Manhattan to get you to leave, then I will. My army has no place for people like you. Go. Home." He glares down at me, and I glare right back.

"Goodbye Prince." He spits. "I hope I never have to see your face again. I hate you." He grabs his bags and storms out. I feel hollow as I watch him untie his horse from a tree and lead it out of the camp. I crumple to the ground, too devastated to cry, as I watch the love of my life disappear from it forever.